


rest it on your fingertips

by polarkai



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:55:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24392410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polarkai/pseuds/polarkai
Summary: It starts at a frat party. Because ofcourseit does.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 25
Kudos: 388





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> might fuck around and make this an actual multi-chap fic

rest it on your fingertips,

up to your mouth, feeling it out.

i had a few, got drunk on you, and now i'm wasted,

and when i sleep i'm gonna dream of how you tasted.

—  _ medicine,  _ harry styles.

* * *

It starts at a frat party. Because of  _ course _ it does. 

It’s a party that Scylla really, really doesn’t want to go in the first place. It’s not that she’s worried about what it means for her as a decent college student, or what implications it has on her social life. It’s just that she doesn’t want to go out without telling her roommate, because Helen will worry. And she doesn’t want to leave without feeding her cockatoo by accident. 

But Porter Lennon is an impossible person to argue with, no matter how fine-tuned her skills are in the area. Which is why, twenty minutes after he first announced their not-mutually-decided plans for the night, Scylla finds herself surrounded by red solo cups and cigarette smoke, and— what she vaguely recognizes as a kiddie pool filled with beer. 

“I hate you for dragging me here,” she hisses at Porter as they weave through a large crowd of sweaty, drunken polo-shirts. “I don’t know why I still associate with you. If you were the award at the end of a race, I’d walk backwards.” 

“Hey!” Porter just frowns at her, the crease between his fuzzy blonde eyebrows only deepening when Scylla rolls her eyes.

She presses her palms against his chest, pushing him towards the main room, where someone has set up a game of beer pong. “Yeah, I’ll be by the pool.” 

“What? Hey, no! We came here together!” Porter starts to insist, but there’s no way Scylla is going to be able to spend the whole night with him, especially sober.

“Go! Have fun with your—“ 

Freezing in the middle of her sentence, she backs up a step as a tall, scruffy man approaches them, grabbing Porter by the collar of his shirt and dragging him back with a ‘ _ Finally, fuck-ass!’  _

“—friends.” she finishes to no one. 

She doesn’t last long inside, between the large crowds and cramped space, and she doesn’t last long without a drink in her, either. 

She’s outside in the backyard just a few minutes in, sitting near the pool with her legs splayed out in front of her, fingers wrapped loosely around the neck of a half-empty bottle of vodka. The music’s blasting along so loudly that she can hear it even out here, every word, every note, and can’t help but hum along as she circles her fingertip along the rim of the bottle. 

It’s just when she’s closed her eyes, grinning ridiculously at no one as the buzz finally settled in, and takes a swig of vodka that a voice asks, “Tell me you’re not going to drink all that yourself?” 

She cracks an eye open to look up at blonde hair and a half-on, half-off flannel shirt. “Maybe,” she tilts her head, slurring a bit, but she reaches out and offers the bottle to the girl anyways, who takes it without hesitation. 

“Thanks,” she says, and Scylla shrugs in response. The girl sinks to her knees on the grass beside her as she takes a long, grimace-worthy sip. “I’m not drunk enough yet,” she tells Scylla then, even though her eyes are bloodshot and she’s swaying just a bit, noticeable enough for Scylla to smirk. 

“That so?” she hums, but plays along. “You’ll get there.” 

“Can I be honest?” the girl asks, leaning forward so her elbows rest against her knees, eyes gazing so intensely at Scylla that she has to look away. “I’ve had my eye on you since you walked in.” 

Scylla purses her lips, an eyebrow raised. “Oh really?” It’s not surprising, not really— she knows that she’s pretty, that she has the kind of face people can trust, that they automatically want to get to know better. 

“Yeah,” she nods in confident affirmation, then stretches out a hand for Scylla to shake. “Raelle Collar.” 

“Scylla Ramshorn.” 

Raelle grabs and takes another sip of vodka, and Scylla, her sight floaty, watches the way her throat moves as she swallows. “What’s your major?” 

“Death,” Scylla blurts out automatically, and Raelle’s eyes widen in response, looking just as baffled as most people usually do, as Scylla knew she would. 

“Oh. Necromancy, then?” she snickers after a brief pause to compose herself. “Weird, I thought that was only a minor.” 

Surprisingly, the joke makes Scylla laugh more than anything else has tonight. She smiles, tipping the bottle towards the blonde with a nod of acknowledgement. “I’m majoring in Mortuary Science,” she explains, only slightly worried for Raelle’s reaction. 

Raelle doesn’t react at all like Scylla expected she would. Instead, she hums curiously, fingers tapping against her thigh. “But why?” she asks, not unkindly.

“My parents ran a funeral home when I was younger, so it’s always been a part of my life,” she shrugs. “And, you know, it’s not as weird as people make it out to be. We’re not freaks. We make death beautiful. We help people say goodbye to who they  _ knew  _ in life, more than just a cold corpse in death.” 

Raelle nods slowly. “That’s… kind of amazing,” she admits, to Scylla’s surprise. It makes her feel something inside, like flattery, and against her will, her cheeks warm up just slightly. “That means more to me than you’d know,” she admits quietly. 

The thing about college is that Scylla never originally intended to go.

Her parents never attended, and neither did her grandparents. She’d be the first to apply in over three generations of Ramshorns, and that’s not something she strived to do, at first. She’d had plans to join the family business, to take over the funeral home in a few years, after her parent’s retirement. 

The derailment started, more than anything, with the death of her parents. 

Suddenly, her plans had no solid structure to them anymore, no post-mortem promises to hold them up. Six feet under, her parents took with them each accompanied milestone she’d have in the coming years, along with the funeral home and even the small two-bedroom apartment they’d shared before the tragedy. 

Now, twenty years old and hanging onto a scholarship and financial aid to get her through the next few years of college, nothing about her life looks like she’d thought it would. 

She can’t complain, though— she’s made a few good friends here, even if the more-realistic title for their relationships would be  _ classmates _ or  _ acquaintances _ , and she likes her major enough that her classes don’t leave her on the verge of a breakdown. Even the homework isn’t too bad, and sometimes, she’ll admit that she actively  _ enjoys _ it. 

Raelle’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts again. “I want to be a doctor like my mom. Guess we both have big plans.” 

Scylla almost laughs as she glances around. “But instead we’re—” 

“—at a frat party,” Raelle finishes her sentence the same time she does, their voices syncing up. She snaps, smiling brightly. “Jinx! You owe me a coke.” 

Raelle cocks an eyebrow, scoffing amusedly. “What are we, twelve?” Then, winking, she makes to stand. “How about I get you a beer instead?” 

“A shot,” Scylla calls out instead, eyebrows lifting in challenge as Raelle stares at her for a moment. “One for both of us.” 

Raelle just smirks, and something dangerous seems to ignite in Scylla’s chest at the sight of it, lighting a fire that twines around her ribs. “You got it, beautiful.” 

* * *

Five shots later, they fumble silently together in the backseat of a car, all stifled moans and whispered curses and sticky sweat, the cool night air pricking at their bare skin. They’re too lazy to put the top down on Raelle’s dad’s old convertible, but it’s dark enough out that Scylla allows for Raelle to push her down against the cracked leather seats.

Even though she’s still slightly buzzed from earlier, she feels sobered up completely as soon as she hears Raelle let out a quiet moan in her ear as Scylla cups her teasingly between her legs. 

“We should probably— we can go to my dorm—”

But Raelle is kissing her again before she can even finish her sentence, a hand curled around the back of her neck, pulling her back down. Scylla doesn’t even have to think about it before she’s kissing back with just as much ferocity, a thrumming under her skin as she yanks Raelle closer. 

It’s heated and wild and Scylla is pressing her back down against the seats, lips latching onto her neck. Raelle’s hands are on her shoulders now, keeping her where she is like neither of them even need to pause to breathe.

“Are you―” she tries to ask, but Raelle nods before she can even get the full question out, pressing their lips together again. 

“Hell yeah,” she sighs against Scylla’s mouth, her breath warm, and then there’s a tongue gliding across Scylla’s bottom lip, as though asking for permission for access. Scylla complies, moaning into the kiss as she flips them over with only a bit of awkward fumbling in the narrow space, with Raelle straddling her lap, their thighs slotted together.

It’s merely instinct, the way Scylla tenses her thigh and pushes it between Raelle’s legs, making the blonde gasp at the sudden contact. She rolls her hips cautiously, experimentally, and then gasps again, eyes glazing over. 

“You like that?” Scylla murmurs in her ear, one hand coming up to tangle in Raelle’s hair. Raelle nods, rolling her hips again, grinding down against Scylla’s thigh. 

Scylla kisses her again, swallowing the breathy whimpers that she starts to let out as she grinds down again and again. Her hands clutch Scylla’s shoulders, her lips eager and wet, breath coming out in hot puffs. 

Then, a hand wraps around her wrist and moves it lower, down to the waistband of Raelle’s shorts, and Scylla almost feels lightheaded at the warmth between her legs. 

It is not a slow process getting to where Raelle wants her. Jeans and panties are discarded, yanked down to her ankles, and then Raelle is tugging her shirt off, quickly joining Raelle’s own top on the floorboard of the car.

She parts her legs slightly, Scylla’s fingers tracing over the skin of her inner thigh as her hand slips underneath the waistband, over grooves of stretch marks and freckles, and she can already feel the heat radiating from Raelle’s core as her hand slips lower, brushing against the inside of soft thighs.

“Please, Scyl,” Raelle sighs out, right in her ear, as her arms wrap around Scylla’s upper back. The nickname seems to slip out accidentally, but somehow, it’s so…  _ fitting  _ that Scylla doesn’t even question it. 

“Please what?” she murmurs instead, her voice husky, smirking as Raelle’s tongue darts out to lick her lips. She stalls for a moment and Scylla’s hand stills automatically, ready to pull away if Raelle changes her mind at any time. 

But then, in a rush of words, Raelle groans, “ _ Fuck _ me,” and any hesitation Scylla had immediately melts away. 

She slips her fingers inside warm, wet flesh with a shudder, as if Raelle is the one doing it to her, sighing as she explores Raelle’s slick entrance. Hands claw at Scylla’s shoulders as Raelle’s hips jerk, pushing into her hand, and she's hot and tight and  _ needy.  _

It’s nothing like Scylla has imagined before. 

“Shit,” Raelle sighs as her head drops down against the seat, jaw clenching and unclenching, and Scylla captures her lips again before she can take a full breath, fingers working slowly and teasingly inside her, slick with her heat.

She revels in the noises Raelle makes, the sounds of her fingers moving through wet, sticky arousal, pressing her mouth against Raelle’s neck and sucking. Between slow, deep strokes and the teasing of her clit, Raelle comes beautifully with a delicious, downright filthy moan, and Scylla draws it out as long as she can, pressing their bodies together, fingers curling and twisting even as tight muscles clench around her. 

It takes a few moments for Raelle to come down completely, breathing heavily, nearly whimpering at the sudden loss of Scylla’s fingers as she slips them out. They’re covered in Raelle’s wetness, and she brings them up to her lips, sighing at the taste.

That seems to make something inside of Raelle snap, because suddenly Scylla is being drawn into another intense kiss, Raelle’s hands eager and wanting. 

It’s only then that she realizes she’s still half-dressed. She shimmies out of her jeans, and almost immediately, Raelle’s hands are on her, roaming and squeezing and scratching in all the right places. Scylla’s breaths are coming out in quick, harsh pants, back arching, body almost straining to be closer to Raelle. 

She grits her teeth. She’s never been desperate like this. “I need—“ 

“You need me?” Raelle asks her, and Scylla moans at the sudden husky tone of her voice, the way her breath comes out hot against Scylla’s mouth. 

“ _ Raelle _ ,” she gasps, and Scylla is never one to beg, ever, when it comes to this kind of thing, but it seems that’s changed recently. 

The first swipe of Raelle’s fingers through her folds makes her inhale sharply, fingertips just barely brushing over the tiny bundle of nerves that sends electricity shooting up her spine. Raelle teases her at first, circling her clit but not allowing Scylla the pleasure of direct touch, gathering wetness with her fingers. 

Then Scylla moans, one hand gripping hard at the car door handle as two of Raelle’s fingers finally slip inside her. She’s already wet enough to take them without any issue, Raelle’s fingers pressing and rubbing against her front wall, making her gasp and writhe. 

Raelle bites her lip in concentration, using her hips to thrust her fingers even deeper inside of Scylla. The sound that leaves her lips when Raelle slowly slides a third finger inside her is guttural, something she’ll never admit to making later.

She’s so ready that Raelle has no trouble at all, but also tight enough that she can still feel the slight stretch as she adjusts to the extra finger, twisting and curling and— _ fuck. _

She arches up into Raelle, their chests pressing together, and Raelle wraps her other arm around Scylla’s waist to hold her body against her own as she comes, white-hot pleasure erupting in her core and spreading outwards. 

Raelle’s fingers don’t stop, slow and gentle inside her, drawing out the aftershocks of her orgasm. She’s panting by the time she comes down, brushing damp hair out of her eyes and chuckling breathlessly, feeling almost high.

Raelle snickers alongside her. “God, I’m so glad Tally dragged me to this party.”

_ Yeah, _ Scylla can’t help but silently agree. She’ll definitely have to thank Porter later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm actually not sure how many chapters i'll write for this, but we'll see where it goes.

They end up in Raelle’s dorm later that night, when the car becomes too hot and cramped.

“Aren’t your roommates going to be here?” Scylla remarks as Raelle unlocks the door, leading her inside. It reminds her of her first year here, staying in a small dorm with two bunk beds instead of the on-campus, two bedroom apartment she lives in now. 

“Tally is staying the night with her boyfriend Gerit, and Abigail is gone for the weekend,” Raelle answers as she flops down on the couch, grabbing at Scylla’s wrist and pulling her down with her. She flops onto the cushions, settling immediately into Raelle’s side, warm and secure.  _ So we have the place to ourselves,  _ the unsaid words linger in the air, and Scylla leans further into Raelle, heat spreading under her skin at the connotation. 

“So,” Raelle hums, a finger tracing lines against her forearm, “What do you like to do?” 

Scylla hesitates, unsure if the question is meant to be an innuendo or if Raelle actually wants to get to know her. Surprisingly, according to the curious look on the other girl’s face, it’s the latter. “Well, there’s not much I  _ can  _ do but work in the lab and study,” she answers honestly, albeit a bit gloomy. “Getting close to graduation, you don’t have much free-time.” 

Raelle’s mouth twitches almost imperceptibly. “But you had enough free time to go to a party?” she teases, and Scylla rolls her eyes. 

“My friend Porter dragged me to it,” she explains. “I  _ should  _ have been home, studying for a test for my embalming class.”

“God, that sounds so bleak,” Raelle chuckles, not unkindly but more teasing than anything, like an affectionate joke between friends. “But it’s awesome!” she rushes to add, like she’s afraid of Scylla taking it the wrong way. It’s endearing, in a way, just how worried she is. “I mean,  _ I  _ couldn’t handle taking courses like that.” 

“It depends on who you are. You said you wanted to be a doctor like your mother?” At Raelle’s nod, she smiles and shrugs. “I don’t think I could work well under the kind of pressure that takes, having someone’s life in your hands. It’s admirable of you.” 

Raelle’s quiet for a moment, seemingly contemplative. “God, I wish I’d approached you sooner,” she finally admits.

Scylla cocks an eyebrow.  _ Sooner?  _

“Yeah, I know, that sounds pretty stalkerish,” Raelle continues with pink-tinted cheeks, noticing her confused expression, “But I noticed you a lot earlier than the party tonight. That was… kind of just an excuse to finally talk to you.”

This is breaking news to Scylla. She’d noticed Raelle on campus occasionally as well, in crowded places like the library and the cafe, mostly, but never really spared a second glance, too focused on school work or distracted with something else.

Raelle seems slightly more awkward now, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck and chuckling. “Besides, I think Tally would’ve imploded if I hadn’t finally introduced myself,” she adds as an afterthought. 

“Oh,” Scylla says, and nothing else. She doesn’t know  _ what  _ to say — though she’s fairly used to the attention, she never thought someone like Raelle would be  _ that  _ interested in her. 

“I’m sorry,” Raelle cringes. “I just made things awkward, didn’t I?” 

“No!” Scylla rushes to disagree, holding her hands up and shaking her head. “No, not at all. I actually think it’s sweet.” And it’s not a lie. It’s sweet and it fills her chest with a fuzzy, warm feeling that spreads outwards, thrumming under her skin. “ _ You’re _ sweet,” she emphasises, tilting her head up so she can brush her lips against Raelle’s, who turns soft and compliant above her.

It’s once things start to get heated that Raelle pulls back, hesitant, gently setting a hand on Scylla’s shoulder. “Actually, I think I need a few hours to recuperate,” she snickers, and Scylla nods in understanding, settling back against the couch cushions. “Why don’t we watch a movie or something?”

Reaching for the remote, she chooses a random movie and presses play. Still, Scylla lets her mouth wander, dragging her lips across Raelle’s neck. 

“Okay,” Raelle sighs a few moments later, as Scylla reaches a spot just below her earlobe, letting her teeth drag teasingly across the sensitive skin there. “Okay, fuck it. I’m definitely recuperated.” 

They don’t pay too much attention to the movie, to say the least. 

* * *

As it turns out, the couch is too small and somehow, a few hours after they both drift to sleep on accident, Raelle crashes onto the floor, tangled in the blanket and cursing as her head smacks into the coffee table.

Scylla blinks into the darkness, dazed and confused, tilting her head over the edge of the couch. On the television, the end credits of the movie roll silently on mute, the static glow of the TV screen the only light in the room. 

“Raelle?” she murmurs. There’s an answering groan and her eyes flutter closed again, cheek pressed into the soft fabric of the sofa as she drapes her arm toward the floor and pats in Raelle’s general direction, humming out a half-hearted apology. Her fingertips brush against the side of Raelle’s cheek, and Raelle grabs at her hand to keep Scylla from smacking her in the face on accident.

“Okay, this is dumb,” she huffs, her voice deep and gravely from sleep. Scylla nods in agreement, not really knowing  _ what  _ she’s agreeing with, but she’s found a perfectly comfortable position and Raelle’s thumb is smoothing along the inside of her wrist, lulling her back to sleep.

It’s a long quiet moment before the blonde starts to stand, wobbling sleepily on her feet and pulling Scylla up with her hard enough that she stumbles into her chest. “What are you—”

“C’mon.” She’s tugging her toward the bed and Scylla yawns and follows blindly, snatching the blanket off the ground with her fingertips after she almost trips over it, dragging it behind her.

“Don’t crash into a wall,” she mumbles, just as Raelle is flopping down face-first onto the bed. Scylla hesitates.

“Scylla, c'mon. Go to sleep.” Her words are muffled into the comforter and she turns a little, shifting herself up higher onto a pillow and patting a spot on the bed next to her. “It’s fine.”

Scylla looks back toward the couch but it’s dark and she’ll probably trip over something anyway, so she crawls forward, pulling the blanket up around them both. A slow shiver spreads through her body, her mouth curling into a soft smile as Raelle shifts again so that her knee presses lightly against her hip.

When she wakes up again, the first thing she notices is the faint orange glow of daylight illuminates the edges of the blinds at Raelle’s window. 

The heater in the dorm room must’ve kicked on again, and it’s suddenly too much with their combined body heat under the blanket, making Scylla feel feverish and damp with sweat. She struggles to pull herself from sleep, sitting up almost drunkenly to unzip the hoodie and shake it off over her arms.  Raelle stirs at the sudden movements, clearing her throat and squinting up at her in confusion. 

“Scylla?” She inhales deeply through her nose and drops back to the pillow. “What are you doing? You don’t have to leave.”

She can’t help the short laugh that escapes her lips. As if she'd _want_ to leave, cuddled up next to the most breathtaking woman she's ever met. “I’m not.”

“Good,” Raelle mumbles, and she's barely even awake, but there’s a pleading in her voice — something unguarded and vulnerable — that surprises Scylla, makes her stomach flutter. She bites her lip and this time, can’t help but brush her fingertips against Raelle’s temple, smoothing back a bit of her hair. Raelle hums contentedly into her pillow in response.

Scylla pulls her hand away, regarding her thoughtfully, then lays down on her back, close enough that she can feel her breath warm on her shoulder. She tugs the blanket back up under her chin.  Dimly, she’s aware of the arm slung across her waist, hot and heavy. Sighing softly, she stretches out her legs and turns over to face the opposite wall, cheek pillowed on one hand. Raelle’s arm stays draped over her and, in her sleep, her fingers twitch and kind of twist into the hemline of her shirt.

Scylla closes her eyes again and inhales shallowly, trying to keep her breath steady. It’s difficult with Raelle’s arm still draped over her, and the way her fingertips play softly along the planes of her stomach — it makes her dizzy, reminds her of the car.

At the memory, Scylla squeezes her eyes closed even tighter and turns her head ever so slightly into the pillow, only to catch a whiff of something — the shampoo Raelle must use, coconut-scented and just strong enough to make Scylla feel like she’s being enveloped in all things _ Raelle.  _ Soft, just-barely calloused fingertips skim under the hem of her shirt, brushing along bare skin, and her muscles twitch involuntarily a little under her touch. Raelle's far from asleep now, that's clear, and Scylla has a sneaking suspicion that she knows exactly what she's doing to her.

But then, Raelle’s hand stills and Scylla’s eyes fly open. She waits, biting her lip as Raelle slides her hand back up, resting in the dip of her waist. She hears her exhale loudly in a kind of frustration, but she doesn’t move away completely and her thumb continues to brush back and forth lightly. Scylla shifts back towards her, fitting their bodies together. Raelle's  fingers curl in, grasping at Scylla’s waist, then relax and slide back down, under the edge of the shirt to press almost possessively over the bare skin of her stomach. 

To think they're supposed to be sleeping.

The comforter rustles as Raelle shifts even closer until her chest is pressed solidly against Scylla’s back. When her nose nuzzles against the side of her neck, Scylla’s breath catches in her throat, and she has to hold back a little noise of overwhelmed approval. Her entire body feels vibrant, like there’s an electric current running through her veins, and she’s almost afraid Raelle will feel it, how completely and utterly affected Scylla is by her.

Three fingers circle her belly button and trail down, dipping just below the edge of her waistline, betw een her hips and then back up again to trace along the lines of her ribs with the back of her fingers. 

It’s all making Scylla a little frantic.  _ Again. _ As if they hadn’t just fucked twice in one night. There’s something about the blonde that makes her feel alive and invincible, like she can do anything all the time. Each time Raelle’s fingertips drift lower, running along the curve of her hip, teasing the line of her panties, closer to where she feels hot and achy with need, she thinks she’d literally die if Raelle were to stop.

But Raelle doesn’t stop.

Finally, when Scylla’s on the verge of begging, Raelle’s fingers hook into the waistband of her pants and tug lightly. Scylla nods and then she’s stripping them down and off, along with her panties, in one quick movement, before gently rolling Scylla over so they’re facing each other.

“This okay?” she asks, even as her fingers tease along the inside of Scylla’s thigh, moving closer and closer to where she desperately wants her, just before her hand retreats and Scylla groans in frustration. 

“Yes, it’s okay,” she snaps, making Raelle’s head reel back, a taunting smirk appearing on her face at Scylla’s impatience. “Now  _ fuck  _ me before I do it myself.” 

And apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Raelle’s smirk only deepens, but Scylla shakes her head. “No, I’m serious,” she warns, cupping Raelle’s chin. “I  _ need  _ you.”

_ That  _ gets her going. Bowing her head, Raelle licks a warm and firm path from her sternum to her collarbone, teeth nipping at the soft, sensitive skin there so that Scylla gasps, twitching at the sensation. Raelle tangles her fingers in her hair, tugging at the strands at the nape of her neck and tilting her head back so she can leave a trail of hot kisses up and down Scylla’s throat. 

Greedily, boldly, Scylla reaches out, letting her fingers press into every part of her; the back of her neck, sharp, freckled shoulder blades, the thin and hard bumps of her spine. Finally, Scylla digs her nails into Raelle’s lower back, and it only makes Raelle more eager to fuck her.  Two fingers slide messily against slick folds, Scylla’s hips arching off the bed in a desperate attempt to gain more friction as Raelle teases her at first, fingertips avoiding the spot Scylla needs to be touched the most. 

“Raelle, please,” she sighs, and that seems to do the trick, because the two fingers slide into her with ease, filling her up, soothing the ache. 

They explore around a bit, growing familiar with their surroundings like they had that night at the party.  Raelle, it seems, does not easily forget the things her partners like. She finds the spot that makes Scylla melt in her arms quicker than anyone else has, and Scylla lets out a breathy moan into the air as she presses and rubs _ just right,  _ her other hand sliding up Scylla’s shirt to pinch and twist her nipple playfully. 

The combined sensations make Scylla gasp, her head tilting back, and it only allows Raelle to bend down again, teeth nipping at the soft spots of Scylla’s throat, leaving marks  that’ll surely give her a hard time hiding tomorrow. Teeth drag teasingly over a pulse point and Scylla’s hand comes down to tangle in Raelle’s hair again, keeping her there as she sucks and soothes the spot with her tongue. 

Raelle groans into her neck, low in her throat, and hitches her up closer as her fingers work inside her, pressing and curling and making Scylla see stars.

A warm flushing sensation spreads low in her core, down her thighs and arms, up into her chest as quiet, desperate whimpers escape her lips, some of which make up Raelle’s name. She’s overwhelmed by her, helpless as she rocks her hips against her hand, grabbing and clutching at Raelle’s forearm so that her nails dig into the skin there unintentionally deep.

Raelle’s fingers curl deep inside her, thumb shifting upwards and rubbing against her clit just right, circling and pressing and making Scylla cry out from the overwhelming, electric sensation that shoots up her body. She shudders and comes with a gasp that catches in the back of her throat, body arched against Raelle’s, her legs trembling. 

The two fingers work her through her orgasm until she groans softly and relaxes the grip on Raelle’s arm, her own arm falling limply at her side. She’s panting for breath, body sticky with sweat as she clutches the sheets of the mattress, huffing out an ecstatic laugh as she comes down.

Raelle leans in and brushes away the damp hair clinging damply to her forehead, pressing a kiss there and lingering. “You okay?” she whispers, and Scylla feels the smile against her skin. 

She lets out a choked, tired laugh. “Mhmm,” she hums, her chest rising and falling slowly now. The blanket’s been kicked down, tangled at their legs, and Raelle reaches down and pulls it back up, tucking it around them when Scylla shivers. 

They lay there, minutes drifting by in a haze. There’s a calming in the little cocoon of warmth that they’ve created, intertwined and pressed together. Raelle’s still combing her fingers through Scylla’s damp hair in a way that feels absentminded, every so often tracing along the edge of her ear and down her neck like she can’t help but touch her. It feels…  _ nice, _ intimate in such a way that she wouldn’t expect from a one night stand. 

_ One night stand.  _ The phrase feels wrong, like it shouldn’t apply to them, and not only because it wasn’t just a one-and-done situation. Instead, this feels like the start of something Scylla can’t quite name yet.

“You’re thinking too much,” Raelle mutters next to her, as if she could read her thoughts. Maybe it’s the way Scylla had fallen so silent, or the way she’d unintentionally tensed up in the last few minutes. “Let’s just sleep, okay?” 

A few minutes later, Raelle’s fingers still in her hair, and it’s clear that she’s fallen asleep again, at least for the moment. Scylla lets her eyes drift shut as she snuggles closer. 

She’ll have to ask Helen about it later, or maybe even Porter, get a second opinion on it. Surely  _ they’d  _ know what it means.


End file.
